Positive Reinforcement
by MarshmellowDragon
Summary: In Wally's defense, chicken whizees are really addictive. It's not his fault that Bart is a whizee-junkie now. Really.


_Palo Alto  
March 3, 16:32 PDT  
_

4678 miles.

That's the distance from his apartment to some unnamed dead drop point in the middle of the Pacific, then further on to Hawaii (so if anyone happens to be tracking him from the League satellites, he can say he was just really in the mood for fresh pineapple), and finally all the way back to Palo Alto. It's a long run, a hard one, but one necessary for their mission. After all, no one else is more qualified to be the messenger boy.

4678 miles.

That's ten hours from his Saturday just gone, poof, and now he can't manage the energy to drag himself to his desk and actually get any real work done, like that research proposal or his lab report. So instead he's sprawled out in front of the TV, almost too tired to even change the channel. He'll be useless until tomorrow, and by tomorrow it'll be too late because when professors say something takes ten hours, they mean it. Sunday will be an all-nighter for sure.

Four thousand, six hundred, seventy-eight miles _and_ _four hundred ninety two feet._

That's the price he pays for saying Yeah, sure Nightwing, I'll run across the friggin world to drop off your super secret messages for Kaldur. No one ever told him that dead drop points across the seven seas really meant _across the seven seas_.

Understandably, Wally is about two seconds from an all out pout. Everything _hurts_.

A sudden gust of wind steals his remote, changes the channel from Food Network to Cartoon Network, and gives it back.

Wally skips the pout and jumps straight to a grimace.

"Hi Bart." He groans, because who else would bother Wally on Saturday, the holy day of college students everywhere? Even his _mom_ knows to leave him alone on Saturdays.

"Hi Wally whatcha doin hey you miss me I missed you I bet Nelson missed me didntcha girl yes you did!" Bart stops just long enough to give the canine a good scratch behind the ears, then settles on the couch for about half a second to watch cartoons, but oh wait no now he's up again, circling the room and pawing through all Wally's stuff even though he does this every. single. time.

"Why aren't you at the Garricks?" This is home invasion number six and the redhead has resigned himself to the fact that Bart isn't leaving anytime soon, from Wally's apartment, his timeline, _or_ his life.

"I've been banned from bridge nights. Did you know you can make ice cream with liquid nitrogen?" Bart sounds a little bit too proud that those sentences are related for Wally's comfort.

"Uncle Barry's?"

"Grandpa had a case. Super cool CSI – did you know that's a show? I didn't know that was a show." Bart takes pitstop number two on the couch, restealing the remote and switching to something with more explosions and car chases. He watches for a good twelve seconds (new record!) before running off again. "Anyway, I was hanging with Grandma, but she got called in for – ooh! New Young Avengers! Stealing it!"

"Borrowing! You're borrowing it!" Wally yelps, almost motivated to get off the couch to protect his babies, er, comics. Almost. But his stash is just six feet too far away.

"Scavenger's rights!" Bart rushes past, waving his haul like the ill-gotten loot it is.

Wally makes a few pitiful attempts to grab the comic back from his cousin without actually detaching his bottom from the couch cushions, and predictably fails miserably and arguably exerts himself more than if he'd just bothered to get up. Bart even has the gall to laugh at him, snickering just like he does whenever he laps him.

"Shouldn't you be making friends from your new school?" Wally says pointedly, determined to find some reason for him to be left alone.

"School's boring, torture even. You 21st century hicks really like torture, you know that? I met Carol. She's nice. But she's helping her brother at work and I figured I'd come visit you, oh first cousin once removed of mine." Bart drops by the couch again to grab Wally in a hug before he can protest and/or escape. "So that we can become not quite so removed!"

"Great."

"Glad you think so! Now, if you don't mind," Wally knows that whatever it is, he _will_ certainly mind, "I'm hungry, and am going to help myself to your bountiful haul." Yup, he'd called it.

Wally catches him by the shirt before he can go too far. "House rules?"

"Tag my spoilers!" Bart calls as he twists free, grinning evilly and making a break for Wally's pantry like it's an Oreo factory and he's the Martian Manhunter.

He returns with an armful of canned vegetables, because apparently canned goods are remarkably like future food. One more spoiler that Wally wishes he didn't know. He's not sure if he wants to live in a world where everything has a shelf life of infinity. Bart has assured him multiple times that it's totally crash and everyone loves it, but that's probably because he's just been programmed that way and grown up on horrible horrible canned things.

Wally really hopes he croaks from old age before that happens.

On the bright side, if Bart eats all the canned vegetables his mother sends him, then Wally doesn't have to. Nothing against vegetables of course, he's a speedster, he loves all food equally. It just so happens that he thinks chips and ice cream are a little more equal than vegetables.

Bart is halfway through his fifth can of peas when he drops the next bomb. "So," The younger speedster begins, and Wally consciously refrains from taking another sip of his soda to avoid the latest in a long line of Bart-induced spit takes. "I have to write an essay."

Oh. Well, that wasn't too bad. Against his better judgment, Wally takes a sip of his drink.

"Autobiography, actually. My teacher ripped up the first one and told me to do it over, said this wasn't creative writing class." The redhead chokes on a laugh and snorts and aw crap now there's soda everywhere. "Apparently I'm not very good at it. I need your help with this whole second life thing."

"Please tell me you didn't actually put down the _truth_?"

"Hey, spoiler alert, secret identities aren't a thing in my time. They're so retro! That's why you need to write my paper." Bart commands, brandishing his spoon only vaguely like a weapon.

"I'm not doing your homework for you kid, I've got my own." Wally jerks a finger at the sheets of papers messily spread out on the kitchen table. A few are scattered on the floor, victims of speedster-induced air turbulence, and that only makes it look like there's more than there actually is.

"You have to, Grandma Iris said so." He devours another can, looking far too smug for Wally's liking. But why wouldn't he? Bart knows he's won. No speedster would ever dare to cross Joan, Iris or Mary.

Artemis, Wally idly realizes, should probably also be included on that list.

"I'm going to regret this." The redhead sighs. He looks to the high heavens, searching for strength, or hey, a miracle would be equally welcome.

"How can you regret what you can't change?" Bart is still meandering around the room, spilling peas everywhere, and at this point just looking at him go is exhausting. "Here's some blank paper I found." A half hazard stack of what was supposed to be his lab report is dumped in Wally's lap.

"Hold on, I'm not doing this alone." He protests, snagging his cousin by the shirt again when he passes by. "This is going to be a team effort."

"But-"

"Sit." Commands Wally before the protest is fully formed. To his great surprise, after a few moments delay Bart does so, plopping himself on the other end of the couch. He immediately begins to fidget with the cushions. "Stay." Twenty seconds pass, and by some miracle, the other half of the couch is still occupied. Wally smiles tiredly. "Good time traveling cousin." Smirking, he dangles a chicken whizee in front of Bart the same way he does when he's offering Nelson a treat for remembering not to make a mess inside the house.

Bart snatches it up promptly, of course, because it's food.

"Hrmm, crunchy, but chicken-y. And preservaty. I approve. Gimme."

"Hey, no! These are mine. Eat your vegetables."

"But I'm all done…"

He's about to protest, probably throw in an insult or two, but instead Wally pauses, cups a chin in his hand and sort of kind of thinks this through. Maybe a little positive reinforcement is in order here. Negative reinforcement never seems to actually stick with Bart.

"We'll work on your paper, and then you can have some. How about it?"

"Sure!" Maybe Bart pauses to consider this, but if he does, the moment is gone too fast for Wally to notice. "Okay, first sentence. I am Bart Allen, stranded time tourist forced to attend this torture you call school."

"That's exactly why your last one got ripped up."

"Bart Allen, monster hunter from the planet Korbal." He tries again.

"How is that any different?" Wally can't keep the grimace from his face; this is going to take forever. The brunette huffs dramatically, muttering something under his breath that sounds vaguely like an insult.

"I am Bart Allen," he finally says, "normal fifteen year old from Central City. Very normal."

"It's a start." Wally allows, and tosses his cousin a chicken whizee for his trouble.

"I like, uh, sports. Sports? Sports." Wally raises an eyebrow and waves his hand in the universal sign for _go on…_ "Hockey?"

"Speedsters are notoriously bad on ice. Can you even skate?"

"I'm very good at falling." Wally starts to protest at this and Bart moves on quickly. "How about horseback riding?"

"You're kidding."

"It sounds so crash! I wanna try it some time. Spoiler alert: the future isn't too big on horses."

"Y'know, let's just say you're into competitive curling."

"I don't even know what that is." Bart protests, but Wally keeps writing all the same. It's kind of weird to be actually writing something by hand again, but no way is he trusting his cousin anywhere near his laptop.

"Luckily for you, no one does. Okay, what else should we put in here?"

"Hey, wait, that was a new sentence. Whizee me!"

"I did literally all the work on that one. No whizee." More grumbling, but Wally just keeps staring expectantly at him over the piece of paper. Bart sticks his tongue out.

"How about we cover family?" The redhead suggests, trying admirably to be the mature adult and not stick his tongue out too.

"My family?" Bart's pause is actually noticeable this time, which is kind of odd. Wally chews on the end of his pencil, waiting what seems like forever for words to come. His patience seems a little short, the it horrifies him a little that the kid might be rubbing off on him.

"My parents were murdered when I was very young, so I live with Grandpa Jay and Grandma Joan." When he does speak, he trips over the words like he's trying too hard to make sure they're the right ones. "They're not really my grandparents, but they treat me like they are."

Another pause.

"It's nice." He finishes lightly.

"That's…" Wally tries to find the words that can really describe the emotion he heard, to describe the awkward crack in his cousin's voice.

"That's a story." Cuts in Bart, suddenly defensive. Wally isn't sure if he's imagining it, but is that an edge of aggravation in his tone? "Make believe. We are literally making this up. It doesn't matter what it is."

Still, Wally doesn't write anything down. It takes him a bit longer, but he finally finds the words he'd been looking for.

"That's pretty sad a story you've got though. You could just say they're on a trip. It'll make it easier to explain whenever somebody from your time comes to pick you up." Bart doesn't really say anything at that, he just scratches his head awkwardly. The fidgeting is back.

"Right?" Wally presses, now slightly worried when the silence stretches on for almost a minute.

"Time travel is kind of tricky." Bart curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. He doesn't look at Wally now when he talks. "Maybe it'll work out. But what if I mess everything up? If I don't do this right, we'll all be feeling the mode."

"Do what right?" Wally hears himself ask.

Bart cringes. Doesn't answer. Dips his head lower so he can hide his face behind his knees.

The silence stretches on, and in that time Wally's imagination works to fill in the blanks. The kid is a time traveler, maybe he doesn't show it, but he's probably terrified that anything he does will ruin the future he knows, right? Maybe he's afraid he'll get someone killed, written out of existence.

Maybe he's worried that no one is coming for him.

"Kid. Bart. It'll, it'll be okay. Alright?" Wally sets down the paper carefully, suddenly feeling like a comforting gesture is required of him. "You're here in the past, and that probably sucks, but I'm sure you still have people waiting for you back whenever. And I'm sure they're fine." Something in Bart's shoulders seems to de-tense at the mention of family, or maybe at the mention of their safety, and Wally is proud of the progress.

Yeah, that was probably the problem, the redhead thinks to himself. Family. Bart was probably worried about his family.

"We haven't lost you to a time paradox yet, so how bad could it be?" Wally finally settles on a quick little hair ruffle, the kind Uncle Barry had given him when he'd been so much newer to his powers and still unsure on what counted as a job well done. That's about as much affection as he can safely show before endangering his man-license.

"So don't worry." He finishes. His words, the hair ruffle, both seem to draw Bart out of whatever momentary slump he'd fallen into. At the very least, the brunet is uncurling himself.

"Yeah." Bart echoes, voice still sounding a little flat. "Don't worry. How bad could it be?"

In response, Wally chucks a chicken whizee at his head. Then another.

_That_ snaps him out of it.

"Two?" Bart questions after devouring both.

"That was two sentences about your family. Hence, two whizees." Wally answers, and can't really put into words how relieved he is when that cocky little grin reappears on his cousin's face.

"Right. See, I'm getting the hang of this." The grin gets wider. "Next sentence. When I was three, I was abducted by the evil alien race, the Dominators!"

"The Dominators? I thought you were more creative than that. Might as well call them the Rulers, or the Conquerors."

"See, you laugh, but spoiler alert, in the future…"

* * *

It's much later when Artemis returns from her shopping, M'gaan giggling beside her and cradling their gift for Raquel like some priceless treasure.

"I'll just say hi to Wally, and then I'll go. La'gaan is taking me to dinner in Poseidonis, and I don't want to be late." M'gaan smiles widely, gripping the gift just a little tighter in her happiness. "He's been stressing over it for weeks, it's adorable."

Artemis snorts, declining to comment because her definition of adorable is a little skewed. Wally had taken her paintballing for her last birthday. That counted, right?

"Hey, Baywatch. You have a visitor." She calls, jiggling her key in the lock and bumping open the front door to their apartment. The lights are off, so the glare of the TV is the only source of light in the living room. At first she thinks he's gone out to party and left the TV on like the slob he is, but a flash of white from the screen illuminates the couch enough for her to spot a shock of red hair.

Wally is passed out on the couch, a few sheets of paper clutched to his chest like a lifeline. It looks like he'd been writing a paper and then fallen sideways onto the armrest when he'd conked out. But the real shocker is Bart, contentedly snoozing away slumped on top of his cousin. Normally, Wally won't even let him get him get within two feet.

"Mmm, chicken whizees…" Bart mumbles in his sleep, and licks his lips.

Aw, the two of them even drool the same. The blonde smiles and points out the speedster pileup to M'gaan, who is equally delighted.

_This_, Artemis figures, is adorable.

(Adorable enough for blackmail, at least.)

* * *

_I think YJ has done wonders for Wally's relationship with Bart. Kinda. I mean, yes, there's the extra friction now from Bart being way faster, but there's also the lack of friction because Bart isn't this responsibility that has just suddenly been forced on Wally, not to mention he doesn't have to worry about the duties of being the Flash, he's still KF. Barry is still around. I mean, I feel like on Earth-16, Wally and Bart would kinda be more like Max and Bart? idk. In anycase, I think it's a fun dynamic to explore._

_Woot, first YJ fic written! Like, fifth one started, but first one finished!  
_


End file.
